


Gaze

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Prince of Stride: Alternative (Anime)
Genre: Bruises, Guilt, M/M, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Mirrors, Mutual Pining, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Sexual Fantasy, Sibling Incest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-21 17:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6059059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The only time they ever look like brothers is when they’re close enough that the light-dark of their hair is tangling together and the matched set of those odd-colored eyes are close enough to be seen in the camera lens." Yuu and Kei are more different than alike, but they share more than just the color of their eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hazy

Yuu doesn’t resemble his brother.

They have almost nothing in common in their appearance any more than in their personalities or their talents. Yuu’s hair comes in pale, a brown so light it looks almost grey in some lighting, while Kei’s is saturated darkness, ink-rich and silky when it falls to frame his features. Kei’s jaw is stronger, his chin more pronounced than the soft curve of Yuu’s, and Yuu might have a few centimeters of height on Kei but Kei is heavier, carrying the extra weight of the muscle and strength that Yuu’s never been able to manage. Kei is fast, and smart, and skilled, and Yuu is average, ordinary, plain in every sense of the word. It’s Kei their teachers remember, Kei who sets records with every race he competes in; often Yuu isn’t remembered at all, and when he is it’s only in relation to his younger brother, only as an oddity to demonstrate that genetics aren’t enough to prove quality. Yuu doesn’t mind. He could be bitter, he supposes; maybe if he were someone else he would be, maybe if he cared more about his own success he would feel the offhand rejection more deeply. But he rejected himself long before anyone else did, long ago realized that he was never going to keep up with the budding talent of his younger brother, and he’s spent his efforts since then staying as far out of Kei’s way as he can manage.

There’s only one trait they have in common. Even the shapes of their eyes are different -- Kei’s are wider-set, Yuu’s tipped down so he looks apologetic no matter what he does -- but the color is identical, the blue-tinted grey of Yuu’s gaze such a close match for Kei’s that he hasn’t yet been able to tell a difference. It’s visible in pictures, sometimes, if they sit close enough together or are crowded against each other to fit into the narrow view of a cell phone camera; it’s the only time they ever look like brothers, when they’re close enough that the light-dark of their hair is tangling together and the matched set of those odd-colored eyes are close enough to be seen in the camera lens.

It happened earlier today, right after the Stride club’s practice match; one of the reporters had been interviewing Kei with the intensity attractive young women always bring for Kei’s thundercloud scowl and long legs, entirely engrossed in the conversation until Kei had turned aside to snap, “Aniki,” at something Yuu was doing wrong. The woman had pounced on them at once, chirping enthusiasm that failed to evaporate even when she found out that Yuu was just the Relationer instead of a runner on the team with his brother. She had steered them into a one-armed embrace with each other, had pressed Yuu so close against Kei’s side that he could taste the salt of the other’s sweat on his tongue when he breathed in, and had enthused about the bonds of brotherly support while Kei’s fingers dug the outline of a bruise into Yuu’s hip and Yuu had trembled helpless in his brother’s hold. By the time the camera clicked to capture Yuu’s tremulous smile alongside Kei’s irritated glare, Yuu had been lightheaded with adrenaline, had retreated to the recovery tent with a speed motivated as much by his need to hide the heat of his erection inside his shorts as the dizzy spin of breathlessness in his vision.

He’s been thinking about it all day, during the process of packing for the return trip home and during the trip itself, when he tucked himself away in the back corner of the van as far from Kei’s position in the passenger side seat as he could manage to get. The ride back passed in silence, the process of unpacking on the other side demanded all Yuu’s attention, and then the walk home was as quiet as it ever is, with Kei setting a pace barely too fast for Yuu to comfortably match and pausing every few blocks to let the other catch up while Kei stared judgment at him. Kei had taken the stairs to the bathroom first, leaving the front door open behind him instead of holding it for Yuu to catch up, and he had stayed in the shower for a half hour, long enough for Yuu’s hair to dry to a crust of sweat against the back of his neck and for his skin to itch uncomfortably wherever it touched the seams of his clothes. Finally the water had shut off, and some five minutes later Kei had emerged from the bathroom, pushing open Yuu’s bedroom door without knocking to tell him “Shower’s free” without a flicker of self-consciousness about the towel that was the only thing slung low around his hips. Yuu’s attention had skipped down, trailing the damp of the water lining all Kei’s chest to glistening gold, but Kei had turned away before Yuu made it to the sharp angles cutting down from the other’s hips, had given the slope of his spine for Yuu’s breathless stare as Yuu hunched forward in a desperate attempt to hide the heat flushing him as hard as he had been after the photograph.

He doesn’t jerk off in the shower. He thinks about it, stands under the warmth of the spray for minutes telling himself he should, telling himself it would be better to do it now rather than wait, but when he moves it’s to go through the motions of washing himself clean, of rinsing the salt from his body and the damp from his hair to leave it plastered wet and dark against his scalp. He takes longer than he needs to, lets the water run hotter than he should, and by the time he gets out the mirror is coated to a haze, his reflection misty and hard to parse under the weight of water droplets. With his hair wet around his shoulders and the features of his face blurred by the fog, Yuu can almost imagine his hair to be darker, can pretend his soft jawline into something harder, sterner, more certain of itself. The door’s locked, Yuu made sure of that when he came in, and when he moves it’s to reach for the counter instead of for a towel, to brace a hand against the damp-slick surface while he pushes his hair back from his face and stares into the blur of his reflection as his imagination turns the haze into clarity, as fantasy grips his vision to twist it into what he wants to see.

Yuu reaches down and closes his fingers around the flushed resistance of his cock. There’s a surge of heat up his spine, relief at the too-long withheld friction, but what he sees in the mirror is Kei’s hand wrapping around his own length, Kei’s grip dragging up hard over himself. Yuu likes to take it softer, likes to work himself up to the edge slow and gently, but what he’s seeing in the mirror is Kei, and Kei jerks hard, digs his thumb in against the head of his cock and slicks his grip up with impatient haste for gratification. Yuu’s shoulders jerk, his hand on the counter slides sideways to clutch desperate at the support, and in the fogged-over reflection Kei’s mouth comes open, Kei’s head arches back until his hair falls back from his face. There’s a rhythm Yuu can make out at the bottom edge of the mirror, a stroking hand working hard over flushed skin, and in his head he’s hearing the pant of Kei’s breathing, is tasting the heat of his brother’s inhales filling his own lungs with arousal secondhand. Yuu’s alight, his skin flaring hot with each burst of friction, but it’s Kei he sees, the blur of movement in the mirror the deliberately hazy image of Kei jerking himself off. Yuu wonders dizzily if Kei thinks about anything while he does it, if he thinks about anyone; is he thinking about a pretty girl in his class, is he thinking about one of the other Stride runners they race against in the tournament brackets? Does he jerk off with the same focus he applies to running, with the same efficient pursuit of satisfaction without getting distracted by fantasies or imagination?

Or does he...Yuu’s breathing hitches, his shoulders curve forward; in the reflection Kei’s image hunches in on itself, guilt weighting heavy into the slope of his spine and the dip of his head. Does he think of Yuu? It’s an insane thought, unfounded in any evidence real or imagined, but Yuu’s shaking against his braced-out arm and his thoughts are going too hot and steam-slick to obey the restrictions of reality. He can hear the gasp of his breathing, can hear the effort of his inhales coming hard in the steam of the air; if he stares hard at the blurred reflection he can pretend it’s Kei’s lungs working on the heat, can convince himself there’s the weight of desire in the grey of the eyes staring back at him from the mirror. Does Kei think about him, does he imagine pushing Yuu back against this same counter, about pushing his legs open and thrusting up into him in a rough slide of motion? Does he know, does he suspect how easily Yuu would capitulate to him, how simple it would be to coax Yuu’s thighs apart for the press of slick fingers against his skin?

Yuu can’t breathe. His arm is starting to shake; the haze of the glass is clearing, the heat evaporating away so he can see the darker flush clinging to the head of his cock, can see the frantic-fast motion of his hand working over himself. Does Kei think about this, Yuu wonders, does he consider how Yuu would look with his cheeks flushed and his legs shaking, does he touch himself to the thought of Yuu spread out trembling and pliant over his bed? Yuu can see the silver color of the eyes in the reflection, now, can see the way they’ve gone soft at the corners, can see the way their focus is drifting in and out over the give of the parted lips under them, and he can see Kei in their color, can picture Kei leaning over him like this, with his cheeks flushed and his eyes dark as he sinks into Yuu’s body, as his attention goes hazy on the pleasure of Yuu giving way to him. Yuu gasps a breath, shoulders straining him closer towards the mirror, and he can see the attention in those pale eyes slide out and away, melting into the give of relief a moment before his cock jerks and spurts heat over his desperate hold. Yuu’s head comes forward, his throat chokes off a groan, and he’s clinging to the countertop, barely keeping to his feet as his body jerks through the pulses of satisfaction that run through him. His thighs are aching, his hand is cramped too-tight around his cock; when he breathes he can feel the strain in his lungs, can feel the effort of retrieving oxygen from the damp heat of the air. But even then it’s relief above all that rushes through him, shuddering pleasure to wash away the hours of strain that came before, until he’s left panting so hard he can feel the tremor in his chest thrum against every exhale as it slides past his lips.

It’s only as the heat fades from his veins that Yuu takes a breath and lifts his head to the mirror again. The steam is gone now, his reflection so obviously his own as to allow no mistake for even the most heat-dazed imagination; his hair is starting to dry back to its lighter shade, his shoulders are slumped forward into a submissive curve Kei’s have certainly never taken on. The stare that meets his is the same color as his brother’s, but the shape of the eyes is wrong, the weight of guilt behind the lashes his own to bear. Yuu looks at his face, takes in the shape of it, all the details that make it not Kei’s, all the things that make him who he is; and then he looks down, to the curl of his fingers around his softening cock, to the spill of come drying across his knuckles as proof of his illicit desire and of his capitulation to temptation. He can feel his cheeks heat, can feel his skin burning itself into the same shame he always suffers after this, but he doesn’t look away.

If he can face nothing else, at least he can face his own failings.


	2. Clear

Kei looks just like his brother.

It’s true that there are minor differences. Yuu’s shoulders are a little narrower than Kei’s, his lashes a little longer, his chin a little softer. He has an extra few centimeters of height, and hair several shades lighter and slightly longer than Kei keeps his own. But the structure of their faces is the same, Kei has always thought; he can see the outline of his brother’s features in the arch of his cheekbones and the angle of his chin for all that Yuu’s face features more soft lines than the straight edges and flat lines of Kei’s. Kei’s never understood how it is that people don’t know them to be related on sight, has never made any sense out of the startled shock he sees in the faces of new teachers and Stride reporters when they make the connection between the two Kamoda-kuns; as far as he can tell the resemblance ought to be clear, is printed stark in their bone structure and in the angle of their wrists even if it’s disguised by the weight of Yuu’s pale hair and the soft corners of his eyes.

It happened again today, in the middle of one of the interminable interviews Kei’s not yet figured out how to end with any speed while still maintaining bare-minimum politeness. He had been answering questions with half his attention, keeping an eye on the movement of the team behind him, and when Yuu had stepped into sight Kei had snapped “Aniki!” without thinking, without even a reason to draw Yuu’s attention except for the satisfaction of seeing the immediate response in his brother’s focus. By the time Yuu had crossed the distance to them the reporter was gushing enthusiasm for the close brotherly bond they must share, expressing more of that same unfathomable surprise at their relation when ‘you look so different!’ Kei had felt irritation at that tense along his shoulders and strain in the curve of his back, and when the woman had huddled them close together for a photograph he had reached for Yuu’s hip without thinking, had caught his brother’s waist in the curve of his arm and dug his fingers in against the other’s skin as if to print bruises there to linger long enough to make his possession known to anyone who sees them. He could feel Yuu trembling against him, shaking with the adrenaline rush he always gets during races, and it had taken all Kei’s self-control to keep his eyes trained on the camera, to hold himself to a glare for the uncaring lens instead of turning his head to bite ownership directly into the quiver of Yuu’s lower lip as he managed the smile Kei didn’t even bother attempting. No sooner had the camera flashed than Yuu was gone, retreating back across the space of the race grounds while Kei growled through unheard goodbyes and stomped off to seethe until the van arrived to take them back home.

He thinks about it the whole way back. It doesn’t make any sense, he thinks, glaring into the faint reflection of his features in the car window like he can turn them into Yuu’s face just by scowling hard enough. It should be obvious at a glance, it should be clear to _everyone_ , the unbreakable claim Kei has on Yuu as his younger brother ought to be read directly from the lines of their features without requiring the explicit explanation Kei has to give multiple times at every Stride event. It shouldn’t be a matter of telling, it should be a matter of _seeing_ , if only the people around them were paying anything like the attention they should be paying to Yuu. But Kei doesn’t want that either, doesn’t want anyone to be looking at Yuu unless _he_ can, and so he vacillates back and forth in the space of his own thoughts, his irritation deepening until he doesn’t even offer to help unpack when they arrive back at the school. Yuu follows him on the walk back to the house, trailing in Kei’s wake like a shadow clinging to his heels, and Kei lets him, not feeling generous or coherent enough to locate the words to make polite small talk. He’s hot all across his body, his skin itching like it’s trying to break free, and when he gets the front door open he leaves it standing wide instead of waiting for Yuu. There’s tension in the gap between his shoulderblades, an ache pinning itself to the spaces between his vertebrae, and he’s not sure what he’d do with the clear grey of Yuu’s gaze on him, isn’t sure what action he might take if Yuu said his name in that warbling almost-apology he offers whenever Kei is irritated. Better to go upstairs, to pace down the hallway and into the safety of the bathroom, and then Kei has the door shut and is pressing the lock into place and he can take a breath for the first time since they left the race site.

It’s not right, he thinks as he starts the water for a shower and lets the faucet spill into the catch of the drain as he strips his clothes over his head and drops them into a heap in the corner of the bathroom. It’s so _obvious_ to him, why can’t everyone see the resemblance in the bone structure underneath his own angular features and Yuu’s softer ones? He glances at the mirror, glaring irritation at his reflection, and yes, there, it’s as clear as the color of his eyes, he could be Yuu’s twin but for the dark of his hair and the set of the scowl unlike any Yuu’s worn in all his life. Kei stares at himself for a moment, looking at the arch of his cheekbones and the angle of his jaw; it’s not quite right, he can see, but that’s just because he’s frowning, it’s the anger hunching his shoulders and settling heavy at his mouth that makes him look so different. He unclenches his teeth, eases the strain in his jaw to deliberate softness, and there, that’s it, if he softens his lips and lets his jaw hang heavy his mouth looks just like Yuu’s, his lips even fall into the same soft curve his brother’s take on when he’s not thinking about them. Kei blinks, watching his reflection as he forces the tension across his forehead to ease; as the crease disappears his eyes soften, his expression melting into something so like Yuu’s that Kei can feel a rush of response run through his blood as if it’s truly his brother on the other side of the counter and not his own reflection. When he lets his shoulders relax it’s there too, even the extra breadth of his chest not enough to undo the resemblance, and as Kei lets his attention slide down his reflection he can feel his blood warming, his cheeks flushing as if it’s really Yuu’s skin his gaze is trailing over. By the time he makes it over the flat of his stomach and down to the angle of his hips he’s half-hard, his cock swelling untouched between his legs, and in Kei’s mind it’s Yuu going hard for him, it’s his brother’s body stirring into arousal just from the drag of Kei’s gaze across him.

Kei doesn’t even think of hesitating. He reaches for the edge of the counter, touching his fingers to it to steady himself as he slides his feet wider and watches the image in the reflection settle into a more steady stance. When he touches his fingers to his cock he can see the contact in the reflection, can see the fit of his hand against flushed skin, and in his head it’s Yuu he’s touching, it’s his brother’s body going hard to the touch of his palm. He wraps his fingers into a hold, squeezes once to get a feel for the motion, and when he groans the sound turns to a whimper in his throat, the echo off the walls faint enough that Kei can pretend it’s Yuu’s voice pinned back by the need for quiet as Kei strokes up over him. There’s heat running up Kei’s spine, the simple, straightforward purr of friction from the drag over his cock but the more satisfying tension of fantasy too, the distraction of imagining Yuu’s chest tightening on a moan, of picturing his face falling slack as Kei touches him. Kei looks back up, dragging his attention away from the fit of his fingers around flushed skin, and it’s there in his eyes, too, the steel-hard edge of them melted to something so soft on desire that it shudders electric down his spine, like it really is Yuu staring back at him from the other side of the mirror.

Kei’s hand is moving faster, his shoulder straining with the effort, but his fantasy is unravelling into pure invention, feeding his imagination the sweat-slick of Yuu’s body pulled flush against his chest, suggesting the drag of Kei’s cock against Yuu’s ass as his palm works over his brother’s dick with steady-smooth haste. Yuu would look just like this, Kei’s thoughts hiss, his mouth open on helpless heat and his throat working on unvoiced sound; maybe Kei could get a hand up against his neck, could feel the shudder of forced silence working under his fingers. He’d take him apart just like this, where they could both see, with the so-similar shape of their faces next to each other, and Kei would press his teeth to Yuu’s shoulder, watch his eyelashes flutter as he shook in his hold, feel his cock twitch as he...and Kei sees his mirrored expression fall slack, eyes going unfocused for a moment as lips tense on almost-pain, and then he’s shuddering into orgasm, his shoulder curling to hunch him over the counter as his cock jerks and spills over his grip and the top of the hand he has braced against the surface. Kei’s hips rock forward, an involuntary motion to seek out the last of the heat in the curve of his hand; and then he takes a breath, and lifts his chin, and meets the reflection of not-quite-Yuu’s gaze in the mirror. He stares for a moment, long enough to see the clarity of his features blur to suggestion, long enough for his eyes to shift out of reality and towards the shape he knows better than his own; and then he pushes away from the counter and turns his back on his reflection as he makes for the shower.

He washes himself slowly, scrubbing at the sticky-sweat of exertion until the water runs clear and his skin prickles with his effort. It’s only once he’s perfectly clean again that he shuts the water off, and wraps a towel around his hips, and goes to find Yuu.

“Shower’s free,” he announces from the doorway, while Yuu is still looking up from the magazine he has open in his lap. Kei catches a glimpse of silver, a suggestion of blue-grey behind the weight of Yuu’s lashes, and then he turns away, moving down the hallway to the locked door of his own room, where he’s free of the temptation of Yuu’s unmarked skin and unsuspicious eyes.

It’s easier away from his reflection.


	3. Real

Yuu can see everything.

It’s distracting enough to have Kei’s hands on him, to have the warmth of his brother’s body pressed skin-close against his spine, flush against his shoulders and grinding hot at his hip. Yuu thinks that would be enough, alone, to knock his vision hazy and blurred, enough to drop his lips into a gasping part like he’s lost control of his mouth and forgotten how to close it. But it’s a hundred times worse, a thousand times worse, to have the mirror in front of them, to have the clear reflection of the glass to offer back every gasping breath Yuu manages, to throw a duplicate of them for Yuu’s hazy stare, until he’s watching his own image go shaky and weak-kneed at the edge of the bathroom counter as much as feeling the adrenaline licking guilty heat through his veins.

“Aniki.” Steady, Kei’s voice, calm as if this is just before a race, as if there’s nothing out of the ordinary about Kei’s touch wandering across Yuu’s body, about the arm Kei has looped into a bracing hold around Yuu’s waist. His fingers are spread wide just against the bottom edge of Yuu’s ribcage, his arm an unshakeable support; Yuu can see himself tilting forward against that support, as if his body is melting to meet the resistance of Kei’s arm. “Are you watching?”

Yuu has to blink, once and then twice, before he can collect himself from the dizzy stare he’s giving their reflection in the mirror, before he can bring his gaze up across the shining surface to look at his own face. He meets his gaze for a moment, his stare taking in the weird pleasure-slackness all across his features, but it’s only for a heartbeat, just a breath to ground himself before his attention skids sideways to catch and linger on the shadow of Kei staring at him over his shoulder.

“Keep watching,” Kei says against Yuu’s skin, biting the words into a criticism for Yuu’s distraction that he doesn’t bother voicing. “I want you to watch.”

Yuu jerks his chin into a nod, submission coming more easily to him than coherency. “Yes.” Kei’s fingers tighten against his hip and his vision hazes over for a moment, his head tilting back for a breathless groan as he rocks back to meet the heat of Kei’s cock pressed hard against him. “Yes, Kei, I will.”

Kei leans closer, bracing his chin hard at Yuu’s shoulder and catching his teeth against the other’s ear. When he bites it’s hard, offering enough force that Yuu tenses and shudders with the rush of electricity it brings, but Kei doesn’t let go for a moment, holds the weight long enough that Yuu can feel the indentation even after his brother lets the pressure go.

“You had better,” he hisses, hot and dark at Yuu’s ear, and Yuu whimpers, his eyelashes fluttering towards the danger of distraction for a moment. The fingers at his hip tighten, nails digging into his skin to pin him to the present, and he forces his eyes open, drops his chin so he can fix his gaze on his reflection and brace himself back into reality. His jaw is set, his mouth still trembling; Yuu almost doesn’t recognize his own eyes for how smoky-hot the color behind them has gone. Kei shifts behind him, his nose bumping Yuu’s cheek, and Yuu’s attention slips sideways to catch on Kei’s reflection instead of his own. Kei’s not looking at them; he’s staring at Yuu, concentrated focus granted intensity by proximity, and Yuu can feel himself shudder with the weight of Kei’s stare, with the promise lurking behind the steel-grey of his eyes.

“Don’t look away,” Kei tells him once more, and then he lets Yuu’s hip so, shifting his weight so he can stretch sideways for the bottle left on the far edge of the counter when they first came in, before they shed their clothes into a heap in the far corner of the room. Yuu doesn’t look away; he watches Kei instead, tracks the other’s motion via the reflection in the glass as he moves. Kei’s shoulders make a smooth line when he stretches, the muscles in his arms and across his chest flexing as he strains over the counter; it wouldn’t be such a reach if he were to let his hold on Yuu’s waist go, but he doesn’t so much as slide his hand by an inch. If anything he holds tighter, tugging Yuu to the right by the force of his motion, and then he has his fingers around the bottle and he’s straightening again, fitting back against the line of Yuu’s spine and pressing his mouth to Yuu’s neck while he catches his arms into a cage around the other’s body and manages the bottle with both hands. Yuu can watch the knuckles of Kei’s hands shift under his skin, can watch the graceful ease with which he spills liquid across his fingers; it’s enough to catch Yuu’s breath even before Kei’s lips outline a kiss at the top of his spine, and then all he can do is to moan something incoherent and hot while Kei clicks the lid on the bottle shut and pushes it aside to replace the brace of his hand against Yuu’s hip.

“Are you watching?” Kei asks, but he’s not looking up to the mirror, and he’s not waiting for Yuu to form an answer from the tension straining his throat with anticipation. “Keep watching, aniki.”

 _Yes_ , Yuu wants to say, except it comes out as a whimper, sounds like a plea, and then Kei’s fingers are dragging slick against his entrance and his whole body is tensing in sudden expectation, his spine curving to tip his shoulders back as his hips jolt forward as if to press the ache of his cock against the edge of the counter. Kei growls against his spine, the sound running all the way down Yuu’s body to ground out at his hips, and then he’s pressing hard to force his middle finger just inside the other. Yuu groans, the reflexive tension along his spine giving way to a shudder of reaction, and Kei breathes out hard against the back of his neck and pushes in deeper, the slick of the lube against his skin barely enough to ease the force of his motion.

“Watch,” Kei says again, and Yuu blinks hard at the mirror, drags his attention back to the heat-soft color of his eyes and the tension he can see trembling through his body in spite of Kei’s hold at his hip. Kei draws his hand back, pushes in again, past his second knuckle; Yuu watches his cock jump in his reflection, watches his lips part on the full-throated moan he gives in answer to the force. “ _Aniki_.”

“I am,” Yuu says, desperate and hot on the words, because he is, even though it’s hard to see anything but the motion of Kei’s shoulder against his and the suggestion of shadow between his angled-open thighs. Yuu shifts his weight, spreads his feet wider; with the greater angle he can see Kei’s index finger bracing against the inside of his thigh, can see the hint of a rhythmic motion in the shadows between his legs. “I am, I’m watching, Kei.”

“Can you see?” Kei asks, and then he’s lifting his head, Yuu can see his chin come up in the mirror as he consider their reflection. His mouth catches into a frown, his forehead creasing on irritation; Yuu can see the hiss of frustration forming behind Kei’s teeth a moment before he hears it, is tensing against the sudden drag of the pressure out of him before it comes. He whimpers at the loss, his body aching empty without Kei’s touch to fill it, but Kei doesn’t look at his face; he’s glaring at Yuu’s legs instead, scowling at their reflection as he reaches down to dig slippery fingers into Yuu’s thigh.

“Up,” he orders, and Yuu shifts his weight obediently even though he doesn’t know what it is Kei wants. Kei’s hand slides up to the dip of his knee, drags Yuu’s leg up towards his chest in one quick motion, and Yuu chokes a cut-off note of surprise and reaches out to catch himself at the edge of the counter with both hands as his balance wobbles and threatens to fail entirely. Kei growls, and forces his leg up higher, and Yuu gets his foot against the counter to catch himself against the threat of falling. The angle is a strain, he can feel it aching in his hip and all along the front of his other leg, but Kei’s growl is turning to a purr, and his slippery hold is pulling away, and when he reaches back down to stroke his fingers against Yuu’s entrance Yuu can see the motion clear in the glass.

“Better,” Kei says, and then he’s sliding his finger back in, and Yuu can see it, this time, can watch the light catch off Kei’s slick fingers as the other’s touch pushes him open. It makes him groan, makes him shudder with heat as much as with the friction of Kei’s touch, and Kei’s got his mouth against Yuu’s shoulder and is groaning something unintelligible too, something hot and possessive and growling in the back of his throat. When Yuu glances up he can see the focus in Kei’s eyes, can see the dark attention in them as he watches his touch sink into the other’s body; it makes Yuu shiver again, twitches another rush of heat to his cock, and then: “I’m going to give you another,” Kei says, low and purring against Yuu’s shoulder and without lifting his gaze from the focus he has on their reflection. “You should watch.”

“Oh,” Yuu says, because his vocabulary is failing with every stroke of Kei’s motion and he can’t find the words for more from the dizzy spin of his thoughts. He braces his hand flat on the counter instead, giving himself a counterpoint to match the bruising grip Kei has on his hip, and Kei’s drawing his finger away to press slick against Yuu’s entrance instead. Yuu watches Kei push against him, watches the easy rhythm of motion in his brother’s fingertips; and then Kei’s wrist shifts, his fingers falling into an angle that speaks to his intention, and when he pushes Yuu can feel his body tensing against the stretch of the intrusion. Kei’s breathing hard at his shoulder, his body tense with expectation along Yuu’s spine, and then Yuu lets a breath out, and lets himself relax, and watches Kei’s fingertips slide inside him.

“Fuck,” Kei says, spitting the consonants into heat at Yuu’s shoulder. “God, _look_ at you.” His fingers slide deeper, push tension higher up Yuu’s spine, and Yuu shudders with it, his body quivering while his focus remains fixed on the angle of Kei’s slick fingers working into him. “You look so _fucking_ good,” and there’s heat at Yuu’s shoulder, the dig of teeth as Kei catches at his skin in a bite like he can’t stand to keep the barrier of skin between them. Yuu cries out at the sudden flare of hurt, his back arching as his body tenses, and Kei groans wordless at his shoulder, curling his fingers to press into Yuu’s body as Yuu clenches tight around him. Yuu lets his breath go, gasps a lungful of air, and Kei pulls back to thrust in again, falling into a rhythm to his movement before Yuu’s had a chance to collect himself back to attention. He can feel the upward strokes of Kei’s hand, can feel the stretch of the other’s fingers opening him up, and when he blinks himself back into focus he can see it, too, the angle of Kei’s hand shifting as he sinks the whole length of his fingers inside Yuu’s body. Yuu can’t breathe, his chest is straining for air like he can’t remember how to inhale, and Kei is moving faster, fucking him open with just his fingers and so much attention in his face Yuu’s not sure he will think to stop to replace the friction of his fingers with the heat of his cock. Kei’s hips are tipped hard against Yuu’s, his weight barely rocking forward with each thrust he takes with his hand; Yuu can feel the length of Kei’s cock slide against his spine with the action, as if Kei’s trying to fuck against his hips even as he works him open with his fingers.

“Kei,” Yuu says, breathless and panting and unable to pull his gaze away from the pattern of Kei’s touch moving into him. “Kei, I.” Kei moans something into his shoulder, rocks his hips farther forward, and Yuu’s balance teeters, straining in his angled-up knee and pushing hard against the support of his hands at the counter. Tipped farther forward he can feel Kei’s fingers dig inside him, can feel the angle shifting as he moves; it pulses heat up his spine, curls tension into his fingertips, and he’s gasping for a moment, helpless to the surge of heat that hits him. “ _Please_.”

“Yeah,” Kei says into Yuu’s shoulder, but he’s still moving, still staring at the motion as his fingers work involuntarily at Yuu’s hip, as his cock spills a few droplets of liquid against the curve of Yuu’s back. “Yeah.”

“Kei,” Yuu says again, and lifts his head this time, tilting his head back to rest at Kei’s shoulder and shutting his eyes to the visual of Kei’s fingers sliding into him. “ _Kei_.”

“Yeah,” Kei repeats, but it’s a sigh this time, resignation on the sound like surrender, and he stills the motion of his hand, leaves Yuu gasping air while his cock thrums discontent at the sudden loss of friction. Yuu whimpers as Kei’s fingers come out of him, his whole body clenching in an effort to retrieve the pressure that has been lost; but behind him Kei is rocking back, and Yuu can hear the slick sound of wet skin catching on itself, and he can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t even move except to tremble at the solid support of Kei’s shoulder. There’s movement behind him, Kei shifting his weight, and then “Stand up,” snapped as an order. “Watch.”

Yuu takes a breath, straightens his spine and takes his own balance back over his feet. Kei lets his hip go, his arm drawing around Yuu’s waist instead; for a moment his fingers are catching against Yuu’s cock, the minimal friction still enough against heat-flushed skin for Yuu to gasp, for Yuu’s hips to buck him forward against Kei’s palm. But Kei isn’t reaching for his cock, ignores the desperate reflex of Yuu’s movement; he reaches down instead, curling his fingers around the weight of Yuu’s balls and drawing them up close to the base of his cock as he hooks his thumb around Yuu’s length to brace his hold.

“Watch,” he says again, and Yuu can see as Kei’s hips shift behind his, can see the slick dark of Kei’s cock fitting between his thighs. Kei has his fingers curled around the base, the support of his hold steadying the angle as he rocks his hips forward; it’s strangely distracting, to see the pale of his fingers against the flush of his length. Kei rocks his weight forward, presses the head of his cock against Yuu’s entrance; and then he pauses, and lifts his head at Yuu’s shoulder. Yuu glances up at their reflection, sees the shadows of Kei’s eyes locked at the space between his legs, and for a moment he can’t breathe, can’t even think for the heat rushing through his veins and surging hot into his cock.

“ _Aniki_ ,” Kei says, and Yuu blinks into focus, meets the shadows of Kei’s gaze in their reflection. “ _Watch_.”

Yuu stares into Kei’s eyes for a moment; then he jerks his chin, short and choppy with submission, and Kei looks down as fast as Yuu does, their attention pinning to the same point in their reflection. Kei’s fingers tighten, draw Yuu’s balls up higher out of their line of sight, and Yuu can see the shift of Kei’s cock, can watch the way Kei tightens his grip as he lines himself up. Yuu rocks his weight back, spreads his legs an inch wider; and Kei thrusts, tipping his hips forward and up in one smooth motion against the resistance of Yuu’s body. There’s pressure, a weight against Yuu’s entrance, and then he can see his body relax, can watch himself opening to let the slick head of Kei’s cock slide forward into him. Yuu tenses at the first push, his reflexes overriding the heat in him, but Kei’s inside him already and all the motion does is clench down hard against the head of his brother’s cock. Kei groans, the sound so raw at Yuu’s shoulder it sounds nearly pained, and then he’s letting his bracing hold go, reaching to grab at Yuu’s hip to brace himself as he thrusts deeper into the other’s body. Yuu’s chest is straining, his lungs working hard for air he can’t remember to breathe for the stretch inside him, for the ache in his legs and the heat in his cock and the sight of watching Kei take the first wet stroke into him. Kei’s gasping at his shoulder, panting for air like he can’t catch his breath, but he doesn’t pull back; he just keeps pushing, deeper and farther and harder as he goes, until finally the last of his cock is inside Yuu’s body and all Yuu can see is the weight of Kei’s balls between his legs.

“Fuck,” Kei gasps, and then he’s drawing out by an inch, two, enough for the light to catch against slick-wet skin before he thrusts back forward and drives the air from Yuu’s straining lungs. “ _Look_ at you, look how good you.” He cuts himself off into a groan and takes another thrust, rougher this time; Yuu can feel his cock jerk with the friction inside him, can see a haze of distraction flicker over his vision before he can bring himself back into focus. Kei’s hand slides away from Yuu’s hip, comes down and around to the inside of his thigh instead; when he pulls Yuu’s leg wider Yuu can feel the ache all against the inside of his thigh but he can’t find words for protest, can’t remember how to frame coherency around the gasp of air rushing in and out of his lungs. “You look so _good_ when I’m fucking you.”

“ _Kei_ ,” Yuu manages, then, the wail of his brother’s name coming from somewhere unstudied, something that bypasses coherency with the practice of too many nights alone in his bed, too many fantasies whimpered into guilt against his pillow. “Kei, _Kei_.”

“Look,” Kei says, and he’s letting Yuu’s cock go, reaching up to grab at the other’s chin and force his head up roughly. Yuu’s attention skids, his hazy thoughts confused for a long moment; then he blinks, finds himself staring at hazy silver eyes, and Kei is still talking, hissing hard at his shoulder. “Look at yourself, aniki, see how good you look.” His hand drops, his fingers curling back into place over the bruises at Yuu’s hip, and his slick fingers are abandoning Yuu’s thigh to come sideways, to close hard against the other’s cock. “See, that’s the way you look at me when I’m inside you.” His hand jerks up and Yuu convulses, his whole body tensing at the surge of heat; his hand comes out, his palm hitting the cold of the mirrored glass, and those eyes are still staring back at him, pleasure-drugged silver over the slack weight of a gasping mouth. Kei takes a thrust and Yuu can see the force of it ripple through his expression, can see his eyelashes flutter in the moment before his eyes roll back under the weight of the pleasure that hits him.

“See,” Kei tells him, and he sounds raw on the word, strained and nearly desperate with the heat in his throat. “See how _beautiful_ you are.” He’s leaning in close, his head pressing hard against Yuu’s; Yuu can feel the heat of Kei’s breathing against his cheek, can feel the tangle of Kei’s hair catching at his. His heart is pounding, his arms shaking nearly as badly as his legs, and Kei’s still moving into and over him, the drag of his hand rough and rushed and catching the heat from the jolting thrusts of his cock into a rising tide of fire in Yuu’s veins. Yuu doesn’t know where to look, from the shadow of Kei’s cock sliding into him to the drag of Kei’s fingers jerking over his length to the dizzy slur of heat in his own expression; and then he looks sideways, his attention catching to the one steady point in the mirror, and he meets Kei’s stare in their reflection. Kei’s watching him, his eyes darkened almost to black and his jaw set; his mouth is barely open, his lips damp from how hard he’s breathing, his cheeks hot and flushed into the high color of pleasure all across his cheekbones. His hair is tangling over his face, his lashes dark and catching the loose strands when he blinks, and he’s staring at Yuu like he’s the only thing in the world, like there’s nothing more important than the other boy’s existence.

Yuu chokes a breath, his body tensing involuntarily, and Kei’s lashes flutter, his mouth shifting into a focused frown for a moment as he bites off a groan and thrusts deeper into the other. He looks determined, intent, and then Yuu blinks and sees their whole reflection for a moment, Kei leaning hard against him and his legs spread open to make a picture of the movement of Kei’s hips into him. There’s the movement of Kei’s hand, the white-knuckled force of his grip, and there’s their eyes, the matched set of mercurial silver staring at each other from the reflection of the glass. In the haze of pleasure climbing over Yuu’s attention the differences in their faces melt away, the distinctions between them falter and fail, and for a moment they could pass for twins, with the reflection of their eyes so similar. Yuu is still staring, uncertain whether it’s his face or Kei’s he’s watching, when there’s a rush of motion, friction forcing out through his body, and his attention fractures, his vision hazing out to white as he wails a broken note and jerks into orgasm under his brother’s hold. He’s sobbing through inhales, quivering through jolting, helpless shudders, and Kei’s hold on his hip tightens, Kei’s movements into him go rougher like he’s trying to force the last dregs of pleasure into Yuu’s body. The rhythm is giving way, everything is going hot and trembling, and then Kei groans, offering “ _Aniki_ ” to Yuu’s shoulder like it’s a command as his thrusts stutter and his cock spills hot inside Yuu. Yuu whimpers, shudders again, and Kei takes a last trembling thrust into him and goes still, his forehead pressing hard against Yuu’s shoulder as if to ground himself.

Yuu doesn’t know how long it takes for him to find himself again. It’s Kei who moves first, sighing hard at his shoulder and sliding back in a slick spill of come Yuu can feel trickle down the inside of his thigh; when Kei lifts his hand it’s to touch Yuu’s leg, to catch the weight of his knee and urge it down off the edge of the counter while Yuu hisses and gasps through the easing of the almost-cramp along his thigh. It’s not until both feet are on the floor that he pulls his palm away from the mirror to press to the counter, not until the heat-print of his touch is fading that he lifts his head to their reflection again.

Kei is watching him. His eyes are lighter, now, some of the weight of shadowed desire eased with his own satisfaction, but his hand is still at Yuu’s hip, his fingers ghosting proprietary appreciation over the prints he left on the other’s skin.

“Kei,” Yuu says, and then, because he doesn’t what else to say, and because he’s helpless to the pleasure-slurred honesty in his throat: “I love you,” the words aching desperate in his chest as if they’re a plea more than a confession.

Kei doesn’t smile. He meets Yuu’s gaze in the mirror, holding his brother’s stare for a long moment of consideration; then Yuu sees him lean forward, anticipates the pressure of contact a moment before Kei tips in against his back. Kei’s gaze slips sideways, Kei’s nose bumps Yuu’s cheek, and then there’s the weight of a kiss, the friction of lips skimming Yuu’s jawline for a moment before Kei’s mouth brushes his ear.

“I love you,” Kei breathes, and the words are a secret in his voice, the low roughness of something to be hidden in undertones and dark corners and shared only in the space between them.

Yuu looks at the mirror, looks at Kei’s lashes and the part of his lips, looks at Kei looking at him for a long, long moment. Then he takes a breath, and blinks slow, and turns away from the reflection and in to meet the reality of Kei’s mouth warm against his.


End file.
